There is not much competition, true, but Mr Putin may turn out to be Russia's greatest ruler

BRUCE ANDERSON

GMoscow

reatness can come in strange guises. In August 1991, a man looking like a bear that had slipped its chain climbed on top of a tank, roared defiance at the plotters against Mr Gorbachev and stopped a coup in its tank tracks. Boris Yeltsin's courage saved Russia from widespread bloodshed; possibly. indeed, from civil war. Having been a joke, he instantly became a saviour and earned a place in history.

Eight years later, it was all so different. The economy had collapsed, taking with it the hopes of the new middle classes, and much of their savings, locked in failed banks. Russians' aspirations had turned into a grotesque parody, symbolised by Mr Yeltsin, who had become far worse than a joke. Manifestly incompetent, surrounded by thieves, running through prime ministers about as fast as he ran through vodka bottles, he was falling apart, and so was his country. He had heralded his presidency by writing himself into history. It seemed that he would end it by writing Russia out of history.

Then he appointed his final premier, who became his successor. The choice was a colourless former KGB officer, not a frontrank one at that. It was assumed that this grotesque overpromotion had occurred for two reasons: to ensure that the Yeltsin family would not be prosecuted for corruption, and to protect the interests of the oligarchs, the mega-thieves who stole in billions and who had rewarded President Yeltsin and his clan for enabling them to do so.

There was nothing about Vladimir Putin to suggest that he was up to the job. Many thought that he had the dictatorial instincts of Lenin combined with the political skills of Kerensky, and was a mere interim on Russia's journey towards chaos and old night.

Two years later, all that pessimism has been confounded. Russia has made a remarkable recovery, while Mr Putin has grown into the job and continues to do so. He was the most unlikely raw material for statesmanship, but it is more than possible that he will be remembered as one of the more successful world figures of our time. He may well prove to be the best governor that Russia has ever had, though it is admittedly difficult to find much competition.

It is hideously difficult to govern Russia, which is why so many observers thought it incredible that such a limited character could succeed in doing so. Moreover, Westerners are most comfortable with Russians who have bushy beards and exuberant souls, who read Dostoevsky, listen to Boris Godunov and quote Pushkin while swigging between exhilaration and despair.

That is not Vladimir Putin's style. He is a small man, with neat suits, a sallow complexion and expressionless eyes. An uninspiring speaker, he is wooden on television and has no gift for phrase-making. He is also chronically cautious, and is often accused of dithering. But Mr Putin has the strengths of his limitations.

He sits at his desk and does his work, shifting paper rather than vodka. He has a formidable command of detail and a capacity to assess situations coldly and clearly, never confusing his wishes with reality. Given the calamities which beset the Russian state in the 1990s, his indecisiveness is also understandable. Until he pulls a lever of government, he can never be sure that it is still connected to wiring and will make things happen, or whether it is merely a piece of painted cardboard, left there by whoever stole the original lever.

Despite the caution, however, some of those who have met Mr Putin in small groups report a forceful personality and strongly held opinions. Nor is there anything alarming about those opinions. He has proclaimed his belief in the free market and has surrounded himself with economic liberals. Income tax has been cut to 13 per cent, with corporation tax at 24 per cent, while work has begun on deregulation. Partly as a result of these tax reforms, the middle class is growing rapidly, domestic capital formation is at record levels, and the net outflow of capital has been sharply reduced.

Mr Putin also claims to be a democrat, though it is less clear whether he understands that concept. In an important speech he gave on the eve of the millennium, he stressed his commitment to democracy, but went on to complain that Most of [Russia's] energy is spent on political squabbling.' Democracy requires such squabbling. Mr Putin undoubtedly gives priority to a strong Russian state, though that need not be a sinister goal, for he also believes in the rule of law and in a civil society, neither of which would be possible in a collapsing Russia. At present, the Russian state is simultaneously overbearing, weak and corrupt. Mr Putin wishes to transform it, so that it becomes limited, strong and honest; a laudable objective, albeit a daunting one.

He has made some beginnings. Until recently, the acquittal rate in Russian criminal trials was around 1 per cent. There were no juries, and in over a third of cases the prosecution did not even bother to appear in court. The judge had been sent his dossier and could be relied on to do his duty. But juries are now being introduced in serious cases; the acquittal rate in jury trials is over 10 per cent. Mr Putin has announced that he intends to increase judges' salaries and status, and to work towards an independent judiciary. That is hardly a dictatorial ambition.

In his Herculean — or Sisyphean — tasks, Vladimir Putin has two vital assets. The first is the Russian people, who are used to making do in spite of their governments. Almost all Russians still have close links with the land, so that even in the worst of recent times they could always grow enough food to survive.

Nor is there any danger of a revolution of rising expectations. Russia has had a terrible history: on good days, Gogol; on bad ones, Osip Mandelstam. If it was not the Mongols at the gates of Moscow, it was the Panzers. All this has not only given the Russians awesome powers of endurance. It has also made them thankful for small mercies, and there have been a few of those. These days, pensions and public-sector salaries are paid on time. That might not seem much, but it has helped to earn Mr Putin approval ratings of over 70 per cent (he is especially popular among women voters, because he does not remind them of their husbands). Above all, he is offering the Russians stability: stabilnost, a word that has enormous political resonance here. He always assures his fellow Russians that the era of revolutions is over. That is what they want to hear and are desperate to believe.

Mr Putin also has to hope that the era of oil at $10 a barrel is over, for his second crucial asset is luck with the oil price. If that price fell dramatically, this place could still fall apart, swiftly. But if the oil price stays high, who knows? Within 20 or 30 years, Russia might at last have the government, society and economy that its people deserve — in which case, they might be erecting statues to Vladimir Putin long after ostensibly greater figures have been forgotten.

Peter °borne is away.